


A Very Rockwell Christmas

by Ladysarah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Darcy/Steve Holiday Fic/Art Exchange, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:45:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysarah/pseuds/Ladysarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Steve and Darcy's first Christmas in a home of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Rockwell Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spacecadet72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacecadet72/gifts).



> This story kicked my butt. I got the prompts and my mind went crazy and I started writing the outline. I had almost a thousand words within an hour. Then...nothing...  
> This is for bearholdingashark. I apologize for making you wait the ENTIRE holidays for this.   
> The prompts were:  
> -Mistletoe  
> -Hot Chocolate  
> -Snowball Fights  
> I kinda went with the prompts, but kinda didn't. I hope that you like this as much as Linda (my insane and good for nothing muse) had coming up with this. And special shout out to Lady Cheeky for being my twin and beta. You rock!

The last strand clips into place easily and Steve slowly backs down the ladder, booted feet landing solidly on snowy ground before he backs up to take in the whole picture. Lights decorate every ridge and window while fresh pine greenery embellishes every rail and cascades over every door, complete with red satin bows. The yard and trees and roof are all covered in a healthy layer of fresh snow and the house looks like it belongs on the cover of _The Saturday Evening Post_ , just like he imagined it would when they moved in four months ago.

Their first house.

To a kid who grew up in the system, moving from house to house, this was The Dream. A home that was his. Theirs. Someplace that they could stay for the rest of their lives and be content. Maybe even raise those kids he and Darcy had been at least talking about, now that his life of being an artist was paying off. Now that they weren’t living like broke college students anymore.

A year ago, the idea that they would ever get out of the shoebox studio apartment they had been living in since their courthouse wedding was a pipe dream. With his job at the ad agency doing thankless and low paying jobs and her position with Family Services, they barely made enough each month to put money away for the future, much less buy a house on the outskirts of the suburbs, with plenty of land to grow on.

This was something he could be proud of. _Is_ proud of.

He takes on last look at their home and turns to make his way to the garage only to be stopped by a face full of wet snow and the sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind his truck. He blinks, the snow melting as it slides down his face, a lone drop sneaking beneath his scarf and causing him to shiver. He sees movement through the window of his truck in the form of a raspberry colored knitted cap. It ducks from view for several seconds and he can just make out the shadow of her gloved hands picking up more snow for her next attack.

Steve can’t help the smile that washes over his face as a plan forms in his mind. Several steps to the side and he takes cover behind the trunk of a wide tree. He checks to make sure she can’t see him before slipping across the yard. She’s looking for him over the hood of the car when he rounds the back of the truck, quickly coming up behind her and wrapping his hands around her waist and rubbing his still cold and wet cheek against her neck, her happy shrieks filling afternoon air.

“Steve!” She laughs as she tries to wriggle free, turning around in his arms as his fingers grasp her hips, gently guiding her between him and the truck, trapping her.

“Thought you would get a snowball pass me, huh?” He grins down at her.

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” There is laughter in her eyes as she tries to put on a tough face and fails. His eyes drop down to her mouth. She is biting the corner of her lip, trying to keep it from sneaking up and showing off the smile that is threatening to break through, teasing the skin pink.

“This.” He dips his head and kisses her, tugging her closer to him using her hips. Her arms wrap around his neck, intensifying the kiss before slightly backing away.

“Steve?” Her warm breath ghosts over his lips and all he wants in the world is to keep kissing her.

“What?”

“You know that pervy kid from down the street?” His head jerks back from hers just enough to give her a questioning glance.

“Yeah…”

“He’s watching us.”

He knows that sometime in the future he is going to find himself having a talk with the kid’s parents about their son’s penchant for peeking in windows, but right now he couldn’t care less about the pervy kid from down the street. Steve leans in and kisses her again. “Let him watch.”

He can feel the laugh bubble up through her body before a sound ever leaves her and he is reminded why he fell in love with her in the first place. He catches her bottom lip with his teeth and coaxes a soft sigh from her before she backs away again, breathing heavily. “We need to take the groceries inside.”

He pulls her back to him and nuzzles into her neck. “No we don’t.”

“Then we won’t have anything to feed our friends at the party tonight.” He can hear the combination of amusement and agitation in her voice that is distinct to Darcy. His nose rubs at the dip right below her ear before settling a kiss against the skin.

“We can cancel.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have this party in the first place, Steve.” He sighs as he backs away.

“Remind me why I wanted to do this, again?” She opens the hatch on the back of her car and starts pulling out the groceries, passing the bags to him for transporting to the house.

“Because we finally have the room to host a party and you want to show off our new Norman Rockwell-ian home.” She loads the last bag into his arms and pushes him towards the house. “Plus, I’m famished and I’m looking forward to your amazing cooking.”

________________________________________________________________________________

 

She comes down the stairs after her shower wearing what she likes to call his ‘Mr. Rogers Cardigan’ over the dress she had laid out that morning, some black number that hugs every curve and always makes his mouth go dry. She rubs her hands together like a plotting child and the crooked elephant snouts at the tips of her slippers dip and sway with each step. The sight brings a smile to his face.

“Okay, chef. Where do you want me?” He positions her in front of a pile of raw veggies and canapé fixings, letting her know how to cut each item how he needs it. She hops up onto the counter and starts casually cutting into the sweet potatoes.

“Are Jane and Don still going to be able to make it?” Steve asks as he cuts up an onion and drops the chopped pieces into hot oil, shaking the pan gently to disperse the clumps.

“Yeah.” Darcy takes a biscuit cutter and starts making holes in the potato slices. “There was some bad weather and their flight was delayed. Also, they asked if they could bring Erik and this other scientist that was going to the conference as well. I told them it was alright and one more body wouldn’t hurt.”

Steve hums, taking in the information. “Who’s this guy? I thought they only worked with Erik?”

Darcy scrunches up her face in concentration and Steve has the sudden urge to kiss her on the nose. “Some guy named Bruce. Jane has been mentioning him a lot more lately. Seems some of their research overlapped and they decided to work together.”

Jane, who had been Darcy’s RA her first year of college, was also her oldest friend. She had moved to New Mexico the year before to follow her funding. It would be good for them to see each other again. Darcy, while liked by many and quick to make friends, was still a little lonely without her best friend to fret over.

“Stupid delayed flights.” She mutters, face going blank, obviously distracted by something else. Steve watches as she silently finishes with the potatoes, halfheartedly tossing them into the roasting pan that sits next to her, before starting on the zucchini. He turns the heat on the stove down, shuffling pots and pans around, before standing in front of her.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What’s going on in there?” He lightly kisses her temple and as he pulls away he can see that her eyes are starting to mist over.

“Do you think we’ll make good parents?” She looks so small and unsure and Steve wants nothing more than to make things right.

“We can only do our best. And we care, so we have a pretty good starting point.” He scratches at his jaw as he looks at her, wondering where this is coming from. They both want kids, but had decided to wait until things were a little more stable. With buying the house they had revisited the subject and decided to put it off just a little longer.

“Is caring really enough?” Her cheeks flush and her eyes brighten in anger. “I mean, there are houses I have to place kids in…They-they think they are doing a good job. That they are doing enough. Then you look in those kids faces, watch how they interact with the people around them and, suddenly, I’m not so sure anymore. And I can’t do anything about it.”

She hops off the counter and puts the roasting pan in the oven, staring at the closed door for several seconds before she turns around, wiping a lone tear from her cheek.

“I know you told me, when I interviewed you for that class I took, what being in the system was like for you and Bucky, but it still breaks my heart to see some of the places these kids end up.”

Steve wraps his arms around her, letting her bury her head in his chest. “You are doing everything you can for those kids. I see how much you care for them and how much you try to help them when you can. I wish Bucky and I had had someone like you on our side growing up.”

“Really?” Her eyebrow raises as she looks at him from under her lashes. He kisses her lightly and smiles before handing her a package of prosciutto to cut up. “Really.”

She smiles and walks back to the counter, hopping back up to where she was before with a lighter heart. “Of course, if Bucky and I _had_ had a social worker like you then we would have had a lot more dirty dreams.”

She laughs, opening the package as he gives his attention to what is on the stove, and sniffs at it. “Does this smell right to you?”

She holds the smoked meat out and he sniffs it. “Smells fine to me.”

The chime of the doorbell sweeps through the house several times in quick succession and Darcy jumps down from her perch and takes off towards the door. Moments later he can hear her raucous laughter echoing through the silent house.

“James Buchannan Barns, what the hell is on your head?”

________________________________________________________________________________

Every corner is filled with friends and coworkers, with hristmas music wafts through the surround sound speaker system Don had given them as a housewarming gift, and smiles are everywhere he looks. From his seat in an overstuffed chair nestled next to their unused piano he can take in the entire party. He watches as Bucky passes by, dangling mistletoe bouncing over his head with each step as he seeks out Natasha, the only woman at the party who hasn’t rolled her eyes at him, and smothers the chuckle that is bubbling up in his throat.

He is about to get up and pull Tony and his flask away from the punch bowl when his wife settles down in his lap and leans her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso and leaving her hands in the warm spot between him and the chair. His arms wrap around her and they settle in together.

“Clint didn’t believe me when I told him that I gave in to your puppy dog eyes and let you convince me to get this house out of pure love for you. That I got nothing in return.” The pout in her voice comes through clearly and he smiled into her soft hair.

“What gave it away?”

“Serenity.”

Steve looks at the painting hanging over the fireplace surrounded by garland and colorful glass bobbles. The day after they had signed on the house Darcy immersed herself in looking for decorating ideas and sales. She had, for as long as he had known her, wanted a large piece of art honoring the best ship in the ‘verse. When she had suggested a nicely framed poster he had stepped in and offered to create an original that would also serve as a more solid piece of art. He still wasn’t sure that her idea for the poster wasn’t part of a ploy to get the framed canvas that they now displayed.

“He said a French Rococo landscape was an interesting choice for Captain Reynolds and his gang of Merry Smugglers. But he also said it was good, so-” she cuts off the end of her sentence to yawn and shudder in his lap. He hugs her closer to him, letting her soak up some of his warmth.

They are both taking in the holiday festivities around them when Darcy speaks again. “Phil said that the advertising is coming along well.” Steve hums in agreement. “He also said that after the book comes out, and depending on the response, you might be gone for up to three months for the tour.”

He sighs. “You need to stop talking to my agent.”

“Your agent is cool. He loves you almost as much as I do and that is saying something.” A smile is covering her face when he looks at her and he can’t help but share in her light laughter. “The way that man fawns over you and the comic, you would think he was the wife.”

Steve gives her a kiss on the mouth. “I think I’ll stick with the one I have. She’s better looking.”

“You bet your finely-toned ass I am.” Darcy gives her hair a light flick over her shoulder and her laughter peters out before a thoughtfull look comes over her face. “Do you really think you might be gone for that long?”

Steve runs a hand over his face and the nervous feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach each time he thinks about the release of his first comic book and its merchandise settles in. “Phil took a big chance pitching me to Fury Comics, and now we have a place of our own to look out for, so I hope the response is as big as he’s anticipating.”

“That would be from the middle of April to-“

“Middle of July.” He finishes for her.

She hums and snuggles closer into his chest. “We’re going to have to work out a schedule for seeing each other.”

“We can talk to Phil about scheduling all of that in.” He smiles as she starts playing with one of the buttons on his shirt.

“And of course we will need to get you back here for the Fourth of July.”

He nods his head in agreement. “For my birthday.”

“Because that’s when the baby is due.”

He stills and it takes a moment for the words she dropped on him make it through the rushing sound in his ears.

“You’re…”

“Pregnant.” She smiles and he can see the lights from the tree a couple feet away sparkling in them.

“Whe…How… We were gonna wait. You wanted to wait.” He knows that right about now he must look like a fish out of water, mouth gaping open and eyes wide as he tries to sort everything out.

“You know how I was recovering from the flu around Halloween and we couldn’t go to Sam’s party, but we decided that the costumes should be put to good use?”

His blood heats and the hairs on his arms raise up at the memory. She had been sick, but it had still been an amazing evening. “Yeah.”

“Well, it turns out the medicine I was prescribed canceled out the pill, so…”

“Baby.”

“Baby,” she repeats. Their eyes meet and she smiles tentatively.

“We’re having a baby.” His voice goes up with the last word and she teasingly shushes him as her hand comes up to cover his mouth.

“Are you trying to advertise it? I mean, I know it makes you The Man, you got your woman pregnant, but I _was_ hoping we could keep it to ourselves for at least a little bit longer.”

He knows that she hasn’t physically changed since she sank into his lap, cuddling into his chest, but in his mind she is someone new. Her smile and sparkling eyes makes her look like she is glowing with happiness and his hand, which had been resting on her hip, dips slightly, nestling at the side of her stomach. His head dips down to capture her mouth with his. He can hear a couple of their friends hooting and hollering, Bucky’s slightly drunken slur more prominent that everyone else’s, and he smiles as he pulls away.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Rogers.”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, the amount of headcanon for this story that didn't make it into the finish product is...pretty big. So, if anyone wants to know more about these two, feel free to hop on over to my tumblr (nourgelitnius.tumblr) and ask for it.


End file.
